


i can't control myself because i don't know how

by aisu10



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: ????????, Blood, Blood Drinking, Gen, M/M, Transformation, Vomiting, gross stuff as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/pseuds/aisu10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>im not even gonna try and glorify this one its just 100% porn without plot - harry goes in to hug peter and starts sucking his blood instead</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can't control myself because i don't know how

as he leans in to hug peter he sees red fabric peeking from his collar, red that immediately flashes him back to pictures of _spider-man_. and suddenly it all falls into place - the research, the surveillance, the spider-powered superhero swinging through new york - and the fact that his _best friend_ takes pictures of him. peter _is_ spider-man.

in his veins flows the blood that will save harry’s life.

his heart pounding at the realization, harry tilts his head and nuzzles his nose and mouth against peter’s skin, desperation and _desire_ surging through him. his lips brush over the slight swell of peter’s jugular and the prominent carotid pulse beating in the side of his neck, and, _fuck_ , harry can swear he can feel his _teeth_ itching -

"- i need _your_ blood," harry mumbles against peter’s skin, and he feels the rhythm of peter’s heart speed up in both his chest and his throat as he presses closer to him, his own chest flush against the taller man’s, his arms gripping him around the back with all his remaining strength. there’s something _roaring_ inside him, some deep visceral _urge,_ pushing him to just _take_ what he _needs_ before it’s too late, and as he breathes into peter he can _smell_ the iron in his blood and his mind starts to slip, his gums aching as his teeth begin to _stretch_ from his jaws -

"h-harry - what do you mean, i’m - i’m _not_ spider-man, i just t-take his -"

but peter’s words mangle into a choked gasp as harry suddenly sinks his teeth into his neck, elongating canines sliding easily under his skin and puncturing his jugular vein. deoxygenated blood seeps from the wound but harry stays latched onto him, laps his tongue against peter’s throat over and over before anchoring his lips to the wound and beginning to _suck_ , drawing the continuous blood flow into his mouth. peter struggles, crying out incoherently as he tries to detach harry from his neck and escape but harry pushes him back against the nearby glass wall with sudden force, nails digging into peter’s shoulders like daggers, rooting him in place.

peter’s blood is _hot_ , burning harry’s throat like whiskey. it flows out so fast it fills his mouth in seconds and his adam’s apple jerks up and down as he swallows each greedy gulp. it tastes like metal, a bitter medicine but one that must be taken if harry wants to live, and, _god_ , does he want to _live_. it fills him fast and after only a few minutes he starts to feel queasy, but he forces himself to keep drinking, sucking in air through his nostrils so he can continue. the blood sloshes in his stomach as he drags peter down to the floor and straddles him to get a better grasp while he convulses weakly, still trying to fight back.

as harry crouches over peter, drawing blood out of peter's throat and into his own becomes a full body action, his back arching rhythmically to follow the rolling movement of each swallow. he feels _incredibly_ nauseous but he doesn’t dare stop drinking because with every gulp of blood he feels his strength returning and he digs his claws into peter’s chest to feel his heartbeat fluttering weakly in contrast. his mind is barely conscious anymore, replaced by a vicious primal instinct to _survive._

when he finally lets go of peter it’s only because there’s no room left inside his body at all - blood is pushing back up his esophagus and spilling into his trachea and he has to rip his teeth away from peter’s neck to cough and sputter. blood sprays from his mouth in a shower of red droplets as he rocks back and forth on his hands and knees over his victim, hissing and spitting to clear his airway. his head is spinning and his stomach is aching as he climbs off of peter’s body and sinks to the floor beside him, struggling for breath as blood hangs from his lips in sticky strings.

harry tilts his head back to keep the blood down, stop it from trying to escape his throat. as his labored panting persists every cell in his body feels like it’s vibrating, morphing, _changing_ , and for a moment relief floods him and he thinks he’s found his cure. but then the buzzing turns to _burning_ and harry jolts in pain, looking dizzily down at this hands to see ugly green veins cutting his flesh, sharp-nailed fingers trembling violently, and he realizes he is very, _very_ mistaken. as peter’s blood makes its way through his system, it’s not healing him, it’s just _killing him faster._

immediately nausea overrides his senses but now he welcomes it, beckons the purge it promises. he bends forward and vomits a large portion of the toxic blood onto the quivering body of the person he’d stolen it from. shuddering violently, he pulls away and skitters across the wet floor on all fours like a wounded animal, in too much pain to stand. he can still feel peter’s blood burning inside him and the urge to eject it from his body overwhelms him again. he presses a hand into his gut as it clenches and forces more of its contents up his esophagus and onto the office floor - but it’s too late. the burning has taken a hold of his insides and he slides down onto his back in the puddle of bloody vomit, writhing and gasping. he claws at his stomach, the blood inside it the source of all his agony, but only succeeds in ripping his shirt and scratching deep red gashes in his skin that fade to a sickening green. his heart pounds wildly in his chest, only spreading the fire through his veins faster, he _knows_ he’s doomed. he can do nothing but scream and tear at his own body, desperately trying to slit his belly and let the last of the terrible blood spill from it as if that might stop this searing, shaking, shifting pain.

as he slams his spine up against the wall harry experiences a fleeting moment of clarity, seeing clearly for the first time what he’s done. peter’s body is lying still on the floor, all his blood pooled on and around him, and when harry raises his eyes to his own reflection in the glass doors he looks into the terrible face of something that is not himself, but an _animal_ , a _monster_ , and his last thought before he passes out from shock is that he _deserves_ what he’s become.


End file.
